


On a Wednesday Afternoon

by samcaarter



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: F/M, Ice Skating, PWP, Wall Sex, but with or without is anyone's guess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-12
Updated: 2020-06-12
Packaged: 2021-03-04 07:21:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,400
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24689800
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/samcaarter/pseuds/samcaarter
Summary: Jack takes Sam ice skating. Like drawing, it's not her strong suit. Like always, Jack has her back.
Relationships: Samantha "Sam" Carter/Jack O'Neill
Comments: 15
Kudos: 86





	On a Wednesday Afternoon

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you, fogsblue, for your help. You rock!

In retrospect, Sam really should've expected something like this when he showed up on her doorstep, all charm and enthusiasm, and declared that he was taking her out on a date, with no prior warning. 

Of course, met with the prospect of spending time with the man she loved and only recently got to have, versus staying at home and working on her bike, the decision was an easy one. Even if with every passing minute he looked more like the proverbial cat. But still, undeniably cute. And since they hadn't been dating long enough for her to get used to this particular kind of cute, she agreed. He told her to dress casually, kissed her on the lips, which almost derailed his devious plan, and ten minutes later they were sitting in his truck.

All their previous dates mostly consisted of take out, staying at either of their places, and generally being great. This is their first official _out_ date, and Sam really shouldn't have expected it to resemble anything normal.

"I'm not doing this," she says, holding a pair of white figure skates in her hands. She's positive everything she's feeling is written plainly on her face, but his face reading ability seems to be selective at best. 

"Come on, it's gonna be fun," he says with a glance at her, and finishes lacing up his skates. His are the hockey ones, she notes with dismay, without the toe picks.

"I think you and I have very different ideas of what fun is." And even if she was open to this... endeavor, she's wearing a skirt. That alone should automatically disqualify her, shouldn't it?

"And I know you're open to trying new things." He gets up with a huge grin on his face. With the skates on, he's at least two inches taller than usual and Sam can't resist teasing him.

"How's the weather up there," she says, squinting up at him.

He stretches his mouth in a mock smile. "Put these on, I promise it'll be fun."

She points at the sandals she's wearing. "I don't have any socks. I'm not putting someone else's ice skates on my bare feet-" she trails off when he pulls a pair of socks, her socks, out of his pocket.

"Here," he says, like it's the most normal thing in the world.

Sam blinks. "You stole my socks, but you couldn't have told me to dress appropriately instead?" 

Putting one hand on her shoulder, he gives her one of his most charming smiles and Sam has to remind herself that she's annoyed with him. "It was a surprise. You like surprises."

With a sigh, she sits down on the bench. "After today, no, I don't. I want it on the record." Oh, why does she let this man talk her into things? “Last time I did this was about 30 years ago. I don’t remember being any good.”

Jack grins. “All the more reason to try again. It’s just like riding a bike.”

Sam gives him a long suffering look. “Is it though?”

“Sure.” He reaches into his other pocket and pulls out a black beanie. Sam decides it would be unwise to point out that it’s July.

"How come we're the only ones here?" she asks instead. It's another thing that's been bugging her. Shouldn't there be kids practicing or something? "Did you bribe someone?" 

Jack holds her gaze for a moment before sighing. "I didn't need to bribe anyone. I asked. You know, I have other friends than you three."

"Oh yeah?" 

"Yes," Jack says, defiant, and Sam fights the urge to grin.

"And who are they?"

"Other people. That I don't work with."

Deliberately slowly she raises her eyebrow, Teal'c would be proud. 

"Fine," he relents. "The place actually belongs to Ronson's wife. She used to be a professional ice skater."

Sam frowns. "Colonel Ronson?" 

He looks away. "Yeah."

She grins. "The man you work with." It might be the lighting, but she thinks she sees a blush color his cheek, what of it she can see.

"You," he says loudly, clearly not wanting to admit defeat, "gear up, and I'm going to test the ice," he says, moving towards the little gate.

"It's ice," she grumbles, intending for him to hear.

"It's very important," he says wisely and Sam resists the urge to roll her eyes. Seriously, it's just ice. She's sure it's slippery enough.

The temperature inside contrasts with the temperature outside and Sam shivers. She's not dressed for this, but if she lives, she decides, she'll make him pay. Maybe by attending a physics conference with her. The thought makes her grin.

Skates now laced up, the smile disappears from her face. Gingerly rising to her feet, she stretches out her arms, sure that she looks ridiculous, but feels grateful that no one's there to see her but Jack.

Taking one small step after another, she makes it to the gate. Opening it, she pauses. She remembers doing that when she was eight or nine. Her legs had felt wooden. She had kept skating into the fence just to stop the momentum, and Mark had teased her mercilessly. Sam sighs, maybe she can put her sandals on and just slide around in them. They offer more surface support, oh and there are no sharp metal blades nailed to the soles. That always helps. 

Needing another moment, she looks at Jack, who seems supremely comfortable on the ice, and wonders just how many other things she doesn't yet know about him. 

He notices her staring and heads straight for her at an alarming speed, coming to a stop no more than four feet away, sending a shower of snow in her direction.

Sam glares. "Show off."

He grins. "Come on. Give me your hand."

She narrows her eyes at him.

"Do you trust me?"

Low blow. "I trust you with my life, but this? I don't know, Jack, one has to draw the line somewhere." She gives him a pleasant smile.

"You're already wearing the skates, it's too late to turn back now. All you need to do is take one step forward. I promise I won't let you fall," he says looking sincere and eager. She knows she doesn't stand a chance, but he doesn't need to know that.

Sam eyes his outstretched hand and reaches for it with hers, snatching it back at the last moment. He almost rolls his eyes. "You know, it looks dangerous. I'm wearing sharp blades on my feet."

"You eat dangerous for breakfast, Carter. Now give me your hand."

He might have a point. "I prefer not to risk my life when I don't have to," she tries.

He wiggles his fingers at her. "You entered a _space race_ because it was fun. Ah! This is fun. I'll show you."

She sighs, resigned, and reaches for his hand again. He grabs it before she can change her mind.

"Now step on the ice, nice and slow."

Carefully, too busy to keep glaring at him, she places her right foot onto the ice. And then he tugs on her hand, forcing her to slide forward, right into him.

Jack laughs as his arms wrap security around her. "Fun, right?" 

"If you do that again, I promise you, we'll never have sex again. Ever." The threat doesn't seem substantial even to her, half the time she's the one jumping him. Judging by his smug grin he doesn't believe her in the slightest. At least he's smart enough not to say anything.

With a sudden jolt of alarm, she realizes that they're moving. He's turned them slightly and is now moving her backwards. "Jack?"

"What?" he says looking down at her.

"We're moving." And she doesn't like it.

He nods. "Yep."

"Jack, I haven't done this in years," Sam says. 

"You're still standing, aren't you?" 

She raises both eyebrows, that's a very low bar considering. "Can I at least turn around?"

He leans down a bit and she takes in a sharp breath. "Why? I like you just where you are," he says, his lips brushing the tip of her nose.

There's something important she needs to say. Think. Was thinking something very important. She can't remember what it is. She raises her head and their lips meet. 

She loves kissing him.

They haven't been doing it for very long. The sheer sense of wonder that they can do so now is still very much there. A part of Sam hopes it never fades away. That she never gets used to the feeling of his lips moving against hers. His teeth nibbling and tongue soothing. The intoxicating taste of _h_ _im_. When he kisses her like this, like a man on a mission, she feels a little drunk. Drunk with him, drunk with the overwhelming affection blooming in her chest.

He presses small kisses to her lips, then to the side of her mouth, and pulls away. Sam keeps her eyes closed, basking in the warmth of him standing so near to her. One of his hands plays with the strands of hair at the back of her head and she lets out a sigh.

"Feel better?" Jack says, but his voice is hoarse and it makes Sam smile. Nothing affects her quite like knowing _she_ affects _him_ just as much as he does her.

"Hmm?" Refusing to feel embarrassed that it's all she can manage at the moment, she opens her eyes.

He's so close, he almost fills up her vision, but just out of the corner of her eye she sees it, ice everywhere around them. Oh. Oh no.

She pulls back. "Your sneaky distraction tactic isn't going to work," she says, only sounding half as sure as she'd like. 

"It's funny, 'cause I thought it was working just fine." He smirks, but doesn't let her go too far. She's thankful for that, she still remembers her _falling equals no sex_ promise.

"Maybe while you were distracting me," she allows. "But you've since stopped doing that, so that tactic needs some work."

He gives her a smile, the kind that tells her he has an idea, and Sam wonders if it's too late to distract him. 

It is. 

Grabbing her hands, he moves backwards, tugging her after him.

"Jack," Sam says, not liking this one bit.

"Yeah?"

"You said something about having fun, and I'm sure this isn't it."

He actually grins at her. "But I am. It's not often I'm better at something than you are."

"So this is- ah"-she makes the mistake of leaning her foot forward and the toe pick catches on the ice, making her stumble-"shit!"

"This isn't shit," he says and she can tell he's doing his best not to laugh at her.

Gripping his hands tighter, Sam tries to glare. "You are so paying for this, you know that?" 

Keeping them parallel to the fence surrounding the ice rink, he pulls her closer, making her bump into him again. "I know you're loving this."

"No, no I'm pretty sure I'm not."

"Then you love me, because you're still here, indulging me," he says a little smugly, but his eyes are twinkling with pleasure and Sam finds she has nothing to counter him with.

"Is this payback for whenever I tried to explain something way over your head?"

He wraps his hands around her shoulders, as their momentum slows and they gently come to a stop. "I like way over my head. You look hot when you're excited about some doohickey. But we all have our strong suits, Carter."

"It's a shame we never had to have an ice skating competition over a planet."

She regrets saying that the second the words come out of her mouth, goading him probably isn't a good idea right now. 

He smirks and then grabs her hand, raising it above her head as he turns her around, and Sam lets out a squeal. She's a lieutenant colonel dammit, she doesn't squeal. In a fluid move, Jack wraps his other arm around her waist, pulling her closer, so that he's standing behind her but slightly to the side. As if they're about to dance. 

"Oh boy," she says, gripping his hand tightly.

Pressing a kiss to her temple, he slowly pushes them forward. "Come on, and remember to keep your feet level with the ice."

"I'd feel much better in hockey skates," she mumbles, seriously, what was he thinking? "It's not like we're going to do any of the figure skating stuff anyway. Jack, this is hazardous to my health _and_ your sex life."

He has the audacity to chuckle and Sam sighs.

"Opinions vary. You just need to be mindful of the toe pick." His warm breath moves the hair over her ear, tickling her, and suddenly she finds it hard to focus.

"Easy for you to say, you don’t have it," she says, mostly just to say something.

“You’re doing fine,” he whispers. Like he has no idea how their physical closeness and slight sense of danger affect her. Or maybe he knows exactly what he’s doing to her.

"What if I want to stop?" She says, trying to focus. 

"You can do this," he says, gently turning them around in a broad arch, until they come to a stop, facing the opposite direction. "You can also bend your knees a little and push your feet out into an inverted V position, scraping the top layer of the ice. You can do it with both feet, or just one, however you like best. What I did earlier is called a hockey stop. But first let's master the basics."

"Oh yeah?" She turns her head to look at him. "What about you?" 

"I could be doing this professionally if I wanted to," he says proudly.

"What about your knees?"

He pushes them forward again. "I wasn't born with bad knees. It's the service's fault."

And this is like solving a jigsaw puzzle, she thinks. One piece at a time. She has most of the picture figured out, but there are still things that she's yet to learn about him that will make the puzzle not only truly complete, but so much more colorful. "Why the military then? If you could've become a pro in hockey? I bet the NHL pays more than the Air Force. All the adventures notwithstanding, of course."

Fingers securely splayed across her belly, he steadily moves them on a wide circle around the rink, she doesn't even need to do anything. And while their speed isn't anything crazy, she finds she actually enjoys it.

"I had to pick between the two, and I picked the military."

"We might not have met if you hadn't," she points out with a smile.

"You'd watch hockey and have a crush on me," Jack says in her ear, sounding positively sultry and Sam resists the urge to laugh.

"I don't really like hockey."

He sighs. "Remind me why I like you again?"

Sam smiles. "Because you have a thing for scientists?"

Releasing her hand, he moves to be in front of her, drawing her into a spin, until their momentum slows and she finds herself with her back to the fence, both of his hands framing either side of her face, and one of his legs between hers; she's effectively pinned. 

"I don't have a thing for scientists," he says, but there's a smile in his eyes that he doesn't allow to reach his lips.

"Then you have a thing for me."

"Think you're funny?" Jack says, trying and failing to look like annoyed Colonel O'Neill. 

"Clearly you do." She grins up at him. 

"Clearly I do," he doesn't argue, instead lowering his head to hers. 

If their earlier kiss felt like an appetizer, then this is the first course. She positively melts into him. Opening her mouth to his questing tongue, she wraps her arms around his waist, searching for the hem of his t-shirt. Bunching it up, she presses her cool hands to the skin of his back and he gasps. 

Not wanting to be outdone, his left hand moves down her body, squeezing her butt, until dimly she realizes he's about to raise her leg.

Tearing her hand from underneath his shirt, she presses it to his chest and pushes. "We are not doing this here."

"Doing what?" His voice is hoarse, eyes clouded with lust. It makes her wish for a beam to his place, except there's no way she's appearing in her current state on the _Daedalus_. No matter how much she wants to get Jack naked _now_. 

Old fashioned way it is then. "We're going home," she says, still trying to control her breathing. He's getting better and better at taking her breath away, and that's just not fair. 

"We just got here." He sounds a little scandalized and she wants to laugh. Seriously?

"Well, you're just going to have to choose again. Ice skating or sex?"

Biting her lip to keep from smiling, she looks at him. When it takes him more than three seconds to decide, she gently moves one hand down his chest, while the other keeps gripping his waist. Pushing herself to her full height, she raises her head so that her nose is touching his chin and nuzzles it. She can feel the growing evidence of his desire for her, his feigned reluctance is nothing more than a show. She presses her open mouth to his neck and gently sucks.

"Okay," he says, grabbing her hand and turning on the ice. "We're going."

Sam tries not to laugh as he pulls her after him to the gate. 

* * *

He doesn't say anything when they get to his truck, and she doesn't expect him to. They didn't fumble with the laces, but they did stumble across Mrs. Ronson, who was under the impression they'd be using the rink for longer than twenty minutes. 

Still, it was an unexpected delay, but at least his house is closer than hers. 

Tension fills the small space. She watches his hands grip the steering wheel and the gear shift maybe a little too tightly, but then she's considering sitting on her hands to prevent herself from reaching for him, so she gets it. The high of having him still hasn't worn off, it only makes sense it's the same for him. The thought makes a pleasant warmth pool low in her belly. 

She must make a noise too because Jack glances at her. "What?" 

"Nothing," she says too fast, reaching for a water bottle. 

The drive to his house isn't long, but they manage to catch the last red light. She stares straight ahead, there's a woman crossing the road, pushing a stroller in front of her, and feels him watching her. 

When she risks a glance at him, he's not watching her exactly. Head only barely turned towards her, he's looking at her bare knees. But there are butterflies in her stomach, she feels like she's sixteen again, except she's not, she's thirty six, and suddenly she can't help it, she starts to laugh.

Tension momentarily broken, Jack immediately looks at her. "What?" 

"Nothing," she says, breath hitching. "We're almost there," she gets out. 

The light turns green and he shifts his attention to the road, but there's a smile on his face. "What can I say, I just haven't had my fill of you." His voice is like silk washing over her entire body and Sam bites the insides of her cheeks. 

"We had sex two days ago," she points out. 

He pulls into his driveway. "Eight years, Carter."

She reaches out to squeeze his thigh, she knows exactly what he means.

Unlocking the door, he lets her walk inside the house first. The second it clicks shut behind him, she presses him to it, kissing him hungrily, trying to decide between the couch and the bed. 

Jack's hands roam her back, tugging her light summer blouse out of her skirt, fingertips caressing the exposed skin, and she shivers. Her own fingers tighten in his hair, making him groan into her open mouth. 

"Bedroom," he says, or at least she thinks he says it, it's muffled against her lips and he doesn't move, so she doesn't either, except to start unbuttoning his shirt.

Grasping her shoulders he spins them around. Her back hits the door and his leg slides between hers, the friction releasing some of the tension that's been steadily building between her thighs. "Now, or it's going to be against this door."

Several top buttons undone, she feels impatient. "Game if you are," she says and tugs his shirt over his head. He's taller, so she gives up halfway, leaving him to deal with the shirt, and focuses her attention on the newly uncovered skin of his chest. 

He lets out a moan when her lips close around a nipple, the tip of her tongue teasing it, as her hands rub up and down his sides. 

She wants him to make that sound again. 

Done with the shirt, he pulls her face to his, kissing her until she feels she can't breathe, then presses hot kisses to her chin, her neck, sucks on a spot near her ear. And for a moment, she can only wrap her arms around his shoulders, and sigh, and _let_ him. 

"Still want to stay here?" he murmurs, voice so low it makes her ache for him.

"If you keep doing this." She slides one hand down to his crotch, he's just as desperate and the bedroom, or the couch for that matter, is just too far. 

He groans when she cups him through his jeans and bites on her earlobe, tonguing her simple earring. She begins working on his belt.

Pulling back, he opens several buttons of her shirt, then, following her example, gives up on the rest and simply pulls the shirt over her head, forcing her to abandon her task. His mouth finds hers again, and his hands slide behind her back to fiddle with the bra, but then she finally beats his belt into submission and he moans when her hand wraps around his cock.

"Well, you asked for now," Jack says, leaning down to nip at her now bare breasts. Her bra hangs between them, as she refuses to pull her hand out of his pants and stop stroking him. He teases her nipples until her movement falters and then backs off, snatching up his discarded shirt and her blouse and throwing them at her feet, an impromptu cushion. Giving her a playful grin, he sinks to his knees in front of her.

Half concerned for his knees, half drunk with lust, she lets the fingers of one hand tangle in his hair, her other hand squeezes her breast. 

Jack O'Neill, on his knees in front of her. Desire rushes through her body and she only knows she wants him. The ache between her thighs becomes almost unbearable. He pulls her panties down her legs and helps her step out of them. Her skirt hides him from view, but she feels everything. His hands on her thighs urge her to spread her legs a little more and she's glad the door behind her helps her stay upright. His fingers spread her open and he goes straight for her clit.

A noise rips from her throat and she jerks forward, hands landing on his shoulder. She widens her stance, sinking lower to give him better access to her sex. "Jack," she says, pleading. 

He hums in response, the vibrations making her moan, then pushes two fingers inside her easily, she's so wet for him, as his tongue circles her clit.

Teetering right on the edge, she fights her body, wanting to come with his cock inside her. Frantic fingers tug on his hair. "Please." 

He hears the unspoken request. Giving her one hard thrust with his fingers, he pulls away. Grasping her arms, he lets her help him to his feet, and then he cups her face and his mouth is on hers. She tastes herself, it's heady and he swallows her moan. "Carter." It comes out like a growl. 

"Now," she orders.

Sliding his hands down, making sure to touch her straining nipples, he hitches one of her legs over his hip for better access and bends down a little to direct himself inside her dripping sex. And slowly but steadily he pushes home.

Her head hits the door. 

He sets a fast pace, as fast as he can manage in this position, neither of them patient enough to prolong this. 

She feels her self control slipping. His hands grasp her butt cheeks, keeping her deliciously open as he fills her just right. His teeth scrape the skin of her neck, and every now and then her nipples rub against the sparse hair on his chest. She's almost there, muscles coiling tighter and tighter. 

"I'm gonna come," Jack says, a strain in his voice. "The sounds you make, shit-" 

She whimpers in response and cups the back of his neck, sliding her other hand down, feeling his stomach muscles jump as she brushes past them until she can touch her clit. "Me too."

"Then come," he pants, bringing one hand up to cup her cheek, making her look directly into his dark eyes. "Come for me, Sam."

Her fingers brush the sensitive nub and his cock, wet with her juices, when he breathes her name and that does it; her body jerks as she clamps down onto him, making him falter. 

His mouth is on hers, swallowing her sighs and moans, as he fights to keep moving, but he's right there with her too, and the next moment he's pressing into her, emptying himself inside her with a sound she dearly needs to hear again and again.

Breathing hard, Sam gently combs her fingers through his damp hair and waits for him to come down to Earth. His hips lazily thrust a couple of more times, making her gasp, and then he opens his eyes.

"This beats ice skating any day," he says, breathless but serious. 

She stares at him a moment before breaking into laughter and he smiles, leaning in to kiss her, soft and affectionate. 

She would agree, even if she wasn't bad at ice skating.

**Author's Note:**

> I remember in middle school, my friends and I went ice skating, and you know, playing ''let's take turns catching each other'' with someone who's playing hockey and feels _very_ comfortable on the ice is quite stressful. It was also nearly impossible to catch her 😂


End file.
